


Programmed

by missigma



Category: DCU
Genre: Evil Superman, M/M, Mind Control, Red Son (Universe), Sex Toys, gagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 05:14:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10529658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missigma/pseuds/missigma
Summary: After his defeat at the hands of Superman in Siberia, Batman is fitted with a device that puts him under Superman’s direct control. Superman is intent on humiliating the man who made a mockery of the entire Soviet government.





	

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven’t read Superman: Red Son, here’s what you need to know. In this universe, baby Kal-El’s vessel landed in the U.S.S.R. He becomes a Soviet hero and eventually leads the soviet government. 
> 
> Batman’s parents were killed by Superman’s right-hand man, who later attempts to partner with Batman for a coup. Batman agrees to try to take down Superman and is almost successful in defeating both him and Wonder Woman using red solar radiation and Wonder Woman’s lasso. However, Superman convinces Wonder Woman to break the lasso and rescue him. Knowing he will be defeated and turned into one of Superman’s mind controlled robots, Batman commits suicide by detonating a bomb he has implanted in his abdomen. He states explicitly that he would rather die than be converted into one of Superman’s robots.
> 
> After this confrontation, we see multiple people who Superman perceives to have slighted him in some way who are wearing the mind control device. Superman punishes them by having them do humiliating manual labor (example: Batman imitators mop the floors of the Superman and Soviet propaganda museum). Clearly, this is an opportunity for smut I could not pass up (after making some tweaks to make things happen).
> 
> I highly recommend reading Red Son. It’s very good, especially if you have an interest in evil Superman, a neutral(ish) Lex Luthor, and Injustice. Apologies if I’ve made any errors in Red Son canon, I’ve done my best and made some assumptions too.

Knee deep in the snow, the Batman stumbled as the red solar lamps flickered, then went out. The generator had been destroyed, and that could only mean his defeat was now assured. In seconds, Superman would be upon him,

Turning back, Batman drew the detonator from inside his coat. He saw the blur of red and grey rise from the underground cell, cape billowing behind him. Then he pressed the button that would deny Superman the victory of forcing his submission, the button that would end his own life.

Twin beams melted the controller in his hand, before the great force of the man hitting his chest sent him sprawling in the snow. He reached down, knowing he still had a chance to detonate the explosive in his stomach. But he could not move fast enough to outmatch Superman, to finish the job before he was struck again and lost consciousness.

++++

The Batman stood just inside the entrance of Kal-El’s personal chambers, cowl discarded. His name, Kal had found, was Bruce.

He was nearly ten years younger than Kal. Under the mask, he was much prettier than Kal would ever have guessed, sharp cheekbones, full lips. When first unveiled, his eyes bore an icy haughtiness, the chilly blue of winter skies.

But that had been weeks before. Now he was little more than a robot with a human body, his mind a simple machine programmed only to obey Kal. Now his eyes were blank, seeing without emotion.

The side of his head was shaved bare, a neat section from his ear forwards. Spider-like, the device clung to his skull, its legs extending to his temple. Superman’s own crest was engraved on the widest face of the gadget, marking him as property of the state.

Simply sending him out to work as a drudge at the Moscow Bank seemed unsatisfying. Kal wanted his punishment to be personal. He wanted to humiliate him the same way the Batman had humiliated him for months, leading him in a game of cat and mouse.

Kal turned from him and seated himself in the broad armchair that stood a few paces from the window. Resting one arm on the chair, he beckoned Bruce closer with a curl of his finger. Patiently, he waited until Bruce paused a few meters from him. Then he gave the order--his first test. “Take off your clothes.”

Bruce’s hands twitched as he received the command, but soon he reached for the buttons of his shirt. Kal expected to see that resistance. Often it happened, especially early in programming.

In seconds, Bruce had carelessly thrown the garment aside. He reached down to pull his undershirt untucked. The bleached white fabric clung indecently to his broad chest, dips and swells of muscle clearly visible under the tightly stretched material. As he dragged the shirt over his head, the cotton slid free to reveal creamy flesh.

Kal noted that the incision in his side was healing well. It stood out from his skin, the delicate pink of a new scar. Now, it was the only remaining evidence of their fight, and a mark that would never fully fade.

Other, older scars were carved into his chest. Some Kal distinctly recognized as caused by knives, bullets and dogs. The oldest seemed to be a faded divot in his right shoulder, where a bullet had ripped through flesh.

Seeming oblivious of Kal’s attention, Bruce worked at his belt next, tugging it free from his trim waist and letting it fall to the floor. With similar lack of ceremony, he discarded his socks and boots to finally stand before Kal in his only trousers.

Here, Bruce glanced up at Kal, pausing with his thumbs inside his waistband. After a few seconds’ consideration, he popped open the row of buttons at his fly, and dragged both his trousers and his boxers down in one go. Stepping out of his tangled clothes, he awaited his next instruction.

“Come here.” Kal leaned back in his armchair. In a few long strides, Bruce bridged the gap between them. He stopped just short of his knees, eyes locked on Kal.

“Kneel.” Kal nodded to the carpet between his thighs. Bruce knelt, sitting back on his heels. He made no move to withdraw as Kal reached out to him, taking his head in his hand.

Gently, Kal ruffled his hair. Trailing his fingers down Bruce’s face, he paused to cup his cheek in his hand. Kal put his thumb to his full lower lip, stroking the soft flesh. On a whim, he pressed the digit between Bruce’s lips. Wet heat enclosed him, pliant under his hand. With gut-wrenching certainty Kal knew _this_ was what he wanted.

“Suck,” he ordered. Bruce hollowed his cheeks around him. Slowly, Kal pulled back until his thumb emerged from Bruce’s mouth with a pop. His skin glistened with his saliva.

Eyes still fixed on Bruce, Kal drew down his fly. Absently, he palmed at himself, before freeing his cock from his trousers. Bruce openly stared at his length, but did not try to pull away from him.

“Suck,” Kal gave the command again, nudging Bruce towards his cock.

Bruce’s eyes flickered up to his face from his place between his thighs. Kal caught a moment of hesitation there before he leaned forwards, lips parting.

His hand pressing into Kal’s hip, Bruce took him into his mouth. Kal wasn’t hard, not yet, but it did not take long with Bruce’s mouth on him. Smoothly, Bruce slipped the tight ring of his lips down Kal’s shaft, then rose back up, tongue sweeping over the crown, before repeating the whole act over again.

It soon occurred to him that Bruce seemed to have experience doing this. Kal permitted himself to imagine that, but quickly found the idea troubled him. The idea that Bruce had done this for men other than him threatened to upset his growing fantasy that Bruce was his possession alone.

“Put your hands behind your back,” Kal growled. Immediately the hand on his hip dropped away. Bruce crossed his wrists behind him and wrapped his lips around him.

“Can you take more?”

It was more question than command, but Bruce complied anyways. Slowly, he slid his way down Kal’s shaft, his mouth enclosing a fraction more at a time. As his lips finally reached the base, Bruce paused, throat working as he fought back his gag reflex.

With hollowed cheeks, Bruce drew back. He began to bob up and down on his cock, becoming more confident with every action. With a steady rhythm, Bruce took him deep, pressing his tongue against his shaft.

This, this was _good_.

Still Kal struggled with the need to push Bruce farther, to see if he had any boundaries left. He wanted to ensure that his control was absolute.

Kal fisted Bruce’s hair in one hand and let his hips roll up against his mouth. Bruce swallowed him down as best he could, barely able to take his length.

“Look up at me.”

Eyes watering, Bruce met his gaze. His jaw slack and lips stretched, his submission to Kal was total. Still, there was something left in his eyes, a little spark that made Kal wonder just how aware he was. Certainly, he was different from the other robots.

Clasping one hand over the back of Bruce’s neck, Kal pushed him down. Rapidly, he forced him back and forth, roughly fucking his throat.

After only a few strokes, Bruce gagged and tried to pull off, his eyes rolling back in his head. Holding him a second too long, Kal eventually relented. Bruce ducked his head, saliva trailing from his lips as he gasped in a few desperate breaths before Kal seized him again. Kal did not last much longer like that before spilling down Bruce’s throat.

When Kal was finished, he released him. Bruce sat back, his lips raw and wet. Drool spilled from the corner of his mouth, leaking onto his chin. Putting his hand back to Bruce’s cheek, Kal guided him to rest against his thigh. He held him there as Bruce caught his breath, combing his fingers through his tousled hair.

++++

That encounter set up a pattern. Every few weeks Kal would call Bruce to his quarters and use his mouth. It did not take long for him to begin to wonder over the other ways he could use his body.

Bruce’s own sexual experience both fascinated and troubled him. Sometimes he would ask him questions. What had he done before? What was new to him? What did he like?

“Have you ever let a man have sex with you?” The question sounded far more awkward when he finally gave voice to it. Once again, he found himself grateful that Bruce would not question him and could not judge him.

“Yes.” The answer came, just as flat and controlled as every time his spoke.

“Did you enjoy it?” Kal pulled him into his lap with a hand fisted in his shirt, intent on stripping him himself tonight.

“Yes.” Bruce lifted his arms slightly, allowing Kal to drag the fabric down his shoulders. After pressing a brief kiss between Bruce’s collarbones, Kal peeled away his undershirt.

“What about toys?” Kal leisurely worked his way down Bruce’s chest, mouthing gently at his scar-torn skin. He pinched at his nipples, already peaked by the chill of the room.

Bruce inhaled sharply as his lips grazed just below his ribcage. “What do you mean?”

“Have you used any sex toys?” Kal unbuttoned Bruce’s trousers and pulled them open. He traced along a stretch of skin just above Bruce’s pelvis, before dipping his fingers under the back of his waistband.

Easing his boxers down, Kal let his hands rest on the muscular curves of Bruce’s ass. He squeezed, then shifted him forward, grinding his thigh up against Bruce’s half-covered groin. Bruce’s grunt seemed to catch them both by surprise, and he grasped at Kal to steady himself, crumpling the heavily starched fabric of Kal’s uniform shirt.

Kal glanced at the hand on his shoulder, eyebrow raised. Bruce never touched him any more than asked, favoring efficiency over any attempt at eroticism. Sensing that he had broken some unspoken barrier, Bruce began to withdraw, but Kal caught his wrist.

Bruce had not answered his question. If he felt generous, Kal could simply excuse that due to his distraction. But ignoring such an intrusive question seemed too well-timed. It could be a sign of insolence, that somehow Bruce was fighting against his programming.

Kal leaned back in the chair, pulling at Bruce’s wrist until he came toppling forwards to lay across Kal’s chest. For the briefest second, Bruce’s head rested on Kal’s shoulder, before he lifted his head, straining his neck to put distance between them.

With Bruce this close, he could make out little beyond his eyes, steady but guarded. Kal put his hand to the back of Bruce’s head, where his spine met his skull, and drew him in.

At the first brush of Kal’s mouth, Bruce shut his eyes. He allowed Kal’s tongue between his lips, an easy victory, but did not return his affection. It would be simple enough to command him to do so, to instruct him to act as the perfect lover, but Kal did not ask that of him yet.

Nipping gently at Bruce’s lower lip, Kal drew his boxers further down. He worked a hand between them, finding the warm weight of Bruce’s cock. Bruce started as he took him in his hand, squeezing gently at the root.

Rubbing the flat of his palm up his shaft, Kal grinned as he felt his cock begin to harden at the friction. Bruce’s expression was unreadable, head slightly turned, grip tight on his shoulder.

With a steady pace, Kal began to stroke him. He could make Bruce come like this, if he wanted. The power of that thrilled him. Slowly, almost unconsciously, Bruce spread his thighs wider. His head swayed lower, chin nearly brushing his chest, until finally he moaned.

“Is that good?” Kal prompted, mouthing at Bruce’s neck. His reply was another moan as Bruce pressed forwards, grinding his hips into Kal’s hand.

Abruptly, Kal pulled his hand away. Panting hard, Bruce rutted shamelessly against his thigh. “No.” Kal stopped him, one hand on his hip, the other grabbing him by the scruff of his neck. “You don’t get to come yet.”

Flushed, Bruce sat back on Kal’s knee. He tried to catch his breath, eyes fixed on a point just above Kal’s shoulder.

“There’s something for you on the nightstand.” Kal nodded towards the small wooden box which sat on top. He allowed him to rise and settled back to watch.

Shedding his remaining clothes as he walked, Bruce approached the nightstand. He opened the box slowly, revealing a rubber dildo and a small tin of lubricating jelly. The toy was unremarkable in shape and size, but possessed a wide base that could suction to the floor. Bruce hesitated, his hand extended over it, not yet willing to grasp the shaft.

“I want you to put that inside you.”

As usual, Bruce offered no outward reaction to the command. He merely took the toy and tin and lowered himself to the floor.

Thighs splayed, Bruce rested his head against the nightstand. Flipping the top off the tin, he dipped his fingers inside. He spread the lube over his middle and index fingers, until his skin shone.

Head turned from Kal, Bruce slid his first finger inside himself. His progress was initially slow as he worked it inside, before he quickly added another. He was rougher than Kal had expected, spreading his own body open with his fingers in short, impatient motions. He stretched and stretched, until he could force a third finger in.

He performed the act in silence, the only sound the slick squish of his digits inside his hole. Bruce was brutal, efficient, and decidedly not interested in putting on a show. However, he could not wholly hide the effect it had on him, not even with bitten lips and smothered gasps.

With spit, Bruce affixed the dildo to the floor. Kneeling over it, he spread his thighs a little wider before reaching back to grasp the shaft. Guiding the blunt head to rest against his hole, he lowered himself onto it.

Bruce grunted quietly as the head pierced him and chewed at his lip. He paused there for a few seconds, gathering himself, before pressing himself further down in one exceedingly slow, but fluid motion.

With three-quarters of the toy inside him, Bruce paused, a breathy moan slipping past his tense jaw. He glanced up at Kal, as if hoping for some mercy, to be told that that was good enough, that he could stop.

“You can take the rest, can’t you? It’s not that big.” Indeed, the toy was not particularly large. Kal had chosen it because he had thought that it wouldn’t hurt Bruce much, being considerably smaller than his own cock.

Bruce dipped his head briefly, working himself down the final inch until the dildo was fully seated in his ass. He groaned as it bottomed out inside him, before lifting his chin to look for direction from Kal.

“Ride it.”

Shuddering, Bruce adjusted his position. Leaning forward on his knees, he slowly lifted himself up, letting a few inches of the toy slip out of him. Then he sat back on it, biting the inside of his cheek as he tried to keep quiet.

He braced himself with a hand on the floorboards behind him. His eyes fell shut and his flush bloomed up from his neck to color his cheeks. However, it was not embarrassment that reddened his skin, but pure, physical lust.

“You’re still hard,” Kal smiled at him. Bruce’s eyes flickered, until he looked up at him through his lashes.

Kal rose from his chair and stood over him. “If told you to touch yourself while you were doing this, would you come?” He put his fingers in Bruce’s hair, desperate to touch some part of him as Bruce debauched himself in front of him.

Bruce shivered at his touch, rolling his head back. He panted, no longer able to conceal the sounds he made.

Kal seized his chin. “Answer me.”

Bruce wavered. “Yes.”

Stooping, Kal kissed him. He gathered him up in his arms, the toy still inside him, and deposited him on the bed. Bruce whimpered at the sudden change in position, legs falling open on the sheets.

Kal braced himself, hands on either side of Bruce’s head. He pressed his thigh between his legs, putting pressure on the base of the dildo. “I want to talk with you.”

Bruce moaned and shifted his hips, trying to find a more comfortable angle. “Talk?” he echoed, voice strained.

“Yes.” Kal ran his finger along the reprogrammer, tracing the arms that branched and attached to his skull. “How long has this been broken?”

Bruce pressed his lips into a narrow line. Abruptly he tried to rise, but Kal forced him back down, pinning him with one hand splayed open on his chest. Slowly, he began to rock his knee against the base of the dildo, drawing a low hiss from Bruce.

“How long?” Kal repeated. He peeled the device from Bruce’s head and let it fall to the floor.

“I disabled it the night you put it on.”

Kal snarled, and pushed hard with his knee. Bruce cried out, lifting his hips to try to escape. “So, you’ve just been playing along this whole time.”

“Yes,” Bruce replied when he had breath to spare. For the first time, real coldness entered his voice. This was the man who had defeated Kal months ago; this was the man who had attempted suicide rather than risk _this_.

“Why?”

Bruce was silent, eyes hard. His expression smoothed into calm control, absent any of his earlier vulnerability.

Kal wanted nothing more than to tear that mask from him. He took the base of the dildo in his hand, and, knowing his power, Bruce went still beneath him. With a slow and steady drag, Kal began to draw the toy from him. As the rubber head reluctantly emerged, slick with lube, he wrapped a hand around Bruce’s thigh and forced it back in.

Yelping, Bruce brought his knees together and tried to roll onto his side. He pressed his bare feet flat against Kal’s chest, trying to find the leverage to push himself away. His heels skidded across his shirt, tearing it open at the throat. Kal held him fast, tightening his grip on his leg, as he repeated the motion. Throwing his head back, Bruce gritted his teeth, before reaching back to grab Kal’s wrist.

Despite his strength, Bruce had no hope of stopping him. With a vicious twist, Kal yanked the toy away. Bruce shouted as it left his ass, arching his back.

“Why did you play along?” Kal flattened his hand over Bruce’s throat, only applying enough pressure to make his threat clear. “Why didn’t you try to escape?”

Still gasping, Bruce did not immediately reply. “Why?” Kal demanded again, before striking him across the face.

Head back, eyes gleaming, Bruce hesitated a second longer before he spoke. “I thought that if I was close to you, I could find some other way to beat you.”

“And what have you found?”

“You’re weak,” Bruce spat, wedging one arm beneath himself, ready to spring off the bed. “You’re being controlled-”

Kal forced his fingers inside his mouth, stopping only when his middle finger brushed the back of his throat. Bruce gagged, spasming as reflex took over, but Kal’s thumb on his jaw kept him from turning away.

One-handed, Kal clumsily shucked down his trousers. Forcing Bruce’s legs back, he reached down, fingers circling his stretched hole. Bruce made no move to resist, staring up at him flatly with his lips circled around his fingers. His gaze did not falter until Kal pushed inside him.

Groaning, Bruce tilted his head back on the sheets. The sound was garbled by Kal’s hand, acid tongue stilled by his fingers. He bit down, and while his teeth were no threat to Kal’s invulnerable skin, he succeeded in muffling his own whimpers.

For his own part, Kal was still, overwhelmed by the tightness of Bruce’s body. Bruce was visibly tense, muscles flexed taut, back rigid. Kal barely dared to move inside him, uncertain how long he could last like this, or if Bruce could even take him. Drawing back slightly, he began a slow churn of his hips against his body.

Bruce gradually shifted position underneath him, tilting his hips and spreading his thighs, trying to ease his discomfort. As he incrementally relaxed, his body yielded to Kal’s thrusts, allowing him to drive faster into him. It did not escape Kal’s attention that Bruce was hard again, cock wet with precome.

Bruce tried to choke back a moan as Kal began to stroke him. He panted, breath coming hot and wet over Kal’s fingers. It did not take long for him to come, still sensitive from Kal’s earlier teasing.

He spilled over his own stomach, nearly shouting as Kal continued to fuck him through it. Arching up, he dug his fists into the mattress, mouth wide under Kal’s hand. Then, bonelessly, he collapsed back onto the sheets.

After squeezing the last few drops of cum from Bruce’s cock, Kal smoothed his hand over the mess on his stomach. He withdrew his fingers from Bruce’s now lax mouth, then sat back on his heels, cock slipping free from his ass. Bruce shuddered, but did not move from his spot, eyeing him.

“Turn over,” Kal gave him a simple order, just as he had dozens of times in the past.

His miscalculation was immediately apparent. Bruce remained motionless, though he seemed to brace himself, setting his shoulders low.

Grabbing Bruce by his hips, Kal flipped him onto his stomach before pressing back inside him. Bruce buried his face in the sheets, drowning his own gasps. Though he made no attempt to escape, Kal wove his fingers through his hair and pushed down, pinning him face first against the mattress. His control slipped and he pushed at the very edge of what Bruce’s body could accommodate.

Kal dragged him upright by his hair, until he was on his knees, swaying as Kal thrust into him. Looping an arm around his neck, Kal seized his chin, then dug his fingers into Bruce’s cheeks, forcing him to open his mouth. With his free hand he scooped up the dildo from where it lay abandoned in the twisted sheets.

He stuffed the toy in Bruce’s mouth and held it there, hand clamped solidly over the base. Bruce gagged, but Kal did not let up, even when he thrashed, breath coming explosively fast through his nose. He held him tight through the final thrusts of his hips, before releasing him.

Falling forwards, Bruce spat out the dildo with a hoarse cough. He limply lay on the mattress, breath slowing. Idly, Kal brushed his fingers over the place where Bruce’s head was shaved, over the ring of small bald spots that marked where the reprogrammer had clung to him.

It was abundantly clear that Kal could not break him, not with any amount of violence or shame. Bruce had born the very worst of him, and yet still was very much the man who had first defied his government. And Kal could not stand to be near him.

“I want you to leave.”

Tired eyes reluctantly focused on him, before Bruce drew a long breath in. He laboriously pushed himself upright, then cautiously stepped out of the bed.

“Don’t let me see you again,” Kal warned him as he slowly dressed. When Bruce did not respond, he prompted him, “Understand?”

Bruce met his gaze, but made no motion that he had heard him. Instead, he turned and wrenched open the heavy door.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've come this far, thank you for reading! 
> 
> I apologize if I fail to keep up with comments, but I really appreciate them. 
> 
> Someday, I promise, I'll write you something much nicer. Until then, you'll have to bear with the kink fics. <3


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